


The Truth Will Set You Free

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Gone Wrong, M/M, forced truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6008434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Wincest Love Week prompt: truth spells/curses</p>
<p>Sam and Dean find themselves in a bit of a bind when they wake up chained in the center of a room... With a villain who won't let them go unless they tell the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth Will Set You Free

         The cold metal biting into his upraised wrists was what made Dean come to fully. He shook his head, looking around the dark room. A sound cam from next to him and he shifted, moving to get away. “Dean?”

“Sam.” Dean relaxed, shifting toward the sound of his brother’s voice. He felt Sam’s hands near his own. “Sammy, you okay?”

“I’m good. Where are we?”

“No idea.”

A spotlight hit them both then, blinding them. It faded as whoever was controlling it angled it upward, illuminating where they were. Dean looked around. It was a small room, with no visible doors or windows, but he could feel a breeze hitting him vertically, probably a ceiling vent. He felt that he was barefoot, wearing just his t-shirt and jeans. His wrists were shackled and raised by a chain looped through a metal hoop. Following the chain down, he saw the other end was hooked to Sam.

Seeing his brother like this made Dean’s heart skip a few beats. He moved his foot, kicking Sam’s leg gently. “You hurt anywhere?” He asked, searching his face for injury. “I feel fine... Just tired.” Sam said, looking up at Dean. The older Winchester could see the dark circles under his eyes, and he nodded. “Me too.”

The room went dark again, and then what looked like a projector screen lit up in front of them. Words appeared on the screen, shaky black letters appearing.

 

  * We’re going to play a game, Winchesters



 

Dean snorted. “What is this, Saw?” He joked, looking over at Sam for a smile. But Sam was staring at the screen, scowling. “What kind of game?” He asked after a moment.

  * I’m going to ask questions. And you are going to tell the truth.



“Right, and if we don’t?” Dean snarked.

  * You will be injured. Eventually, you will die. The truth will set you free.



Dean laughed again. “Right, sure. Fine. What’re your questions?”

  * We’ll start simple. What is your name?



“You obviously know our names.” Dean replied. The words didn’t move. Dean sighed. “What do we do?” Sam glanced over at him. “Sam. Winchester.” He said simply. The words remained. “Just answer it.” Sam muttered, shifting in the uncomfortable shackles. “Fine. Dean Winchester. Happy? Gonna ask for my ASL next?”

  * Good job. Sam, did you enjoy Stanford?



“Yes.”

  * Dean, did you long for your brother while he was at Stanford?



“Long for? I missed him I guess, he’s my brother.”

  * You’re lying. Did you _long_ for your brother?



“Yeah, I missed him!” Dean shouted, frustrated. The room lit up a moment and Dean screamed, arching almost completely off the floor. Sam jumped, looking over at his brother. “What the hell happened?” Sam cried, fighting his bonds. “Something stabbed me!” Dean shifted so Sam could see. “Jesus Christ… Dean, look at the floor.” Dean looked closer at the floor, his face going pale. There were small holes every few inches, about a half an inch around. “What the hell are you stabbing us with?!” Dean shouted when the room went dark again.

“What with?” Sam asked, concern rising.

  * You’ll see if you continue to lie. I’ll ask again. Dean, did you long for your brother when he was gone?



“Yes. Okay? I need Sam. He’s my brother.” Dean muttered, feeling stupid.

  * Sam, are you a virgin?



Sam laughed a little. “No, why the hell do you care?”

  * How many women have you had sex with?



Sam sighed. “I don’t know the exact number. Like… Four or five? I don’t remember.”

  * How many men?



Sam stayed silent long enough that Dean looked over at him. “Dude, you’ve slept with guys? I didn’t know you were into that.” Sam glared. “What? No, I’m not. No guys.” He said quickly, then screamed when the needles pierced his calves. “Goddamnit! Two!” He spat at the screen.

  * Why did you lie about having interest in men?



“Because I don’t like it. I don’t want to talk about it with Dean.” Sam admitted. Dean scowled. “Sam, I’m not gonna judge you for it.”

“Yeah, right. You’re always making gay jokes.”

“And if I knew you were into guys I wouldn’t make ‘em, I’m not a dick.”

  * Ah, but you are, Dean. How many men have you slept with?



“You’ve slept with guys?” Sam asked, and Dean clenched his jaw. “I don’t know how many.” He muttered. “Probably ten.”

  * Sam, when did you have your first wet dream?



Sam scoffed. “I think we’ve been captured by a friggin’ pervert.” He comment, and Dean snorted without humor. “I was fifteen.” Sam answered. Dean chuckled. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“That you were a late bloomer.”

“Shut up, when was yours.”

“Thirteen.” Dean said with a hint of pride in his voice. Sam snorted. “Doesn’t shock me.”

  * Aw, the brotherly bonding. How sweet. What was your first wet dream about, Sam?’



Sam went silent for a moment. “I have no idea, it was too long ago.”

“Dude, it was seven years. Even I still remember my first.”

“Shut up.” Sam hissed at him. “Not really something I wanted to commit to memory.”

  * You remember. What was it about, Sam?



Sam gritted his teeth. “A guy, okay? I was having sex with a guy. And it felt great. That what you wanna hear, you damn freak?!” Sam snapped.

  * Did you know the boy you were screwing, Sam?’



“Yes.”

  * Dean, what sexual need are you most ashamed of?



Dean snorted. “Got all night? Cause I got a list of dirty little kinks.”

  * The one you would never want your brother to know about.



It was Dean’s turn to go quiet as he thought. “I like wearing panties, okay? Preferably silk. And now Sam knows, so what’s your angle?” Dean asked. The screen went black as Dean arched off the ground and grunted, more needles entering his skin. “Jesus Christ!” He snarled. The letters appeared again.

  * What is the one thing involving sex you do not want your brother to know about, Dean Winchester?



“I don’t like women that much.” Dean spat another one. “Just screw ‘em cause it’s the normal thing to do.” He cussed as more needles entered his skin.

         Sam could feel Dean beginning to slump a little. Still he spoke. “I had sex with a guy when I was sixteen. I don’t know what you want me to say!” He snapped at the screen as more needles penetrated his thighs.

  * I’ll make it easier. What did you fantasize last night when you were in the shower?



Dean’s jaw twitched. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him. “Dean, it can’t be that bad. Come on, man. You look terrible.” Dean met Sam’s eyes, shame and disgust in his own. “I can’t, Sammy.” He said softly. The needles hit him again, but he barely flinched.

  * Perhaps a break, Dean. Sam, when was the last time you masturbated?



Sam scowled. “Three or four nights ago.”

  * And what did you picture as you reached climax?



Sam’s face went pale. “I—Um, a guy. He was riding me.” He mumbled, looking down at his lap.

  * Did you know this guy? Personally?



Sam looked back up at the screen and sighed. “Yes.” He mumbled through gritted teeth.

  * And who was it?



Sam stayed silent, clenching his jaw. “I can’t.” He winced when the needles pierced the skin of his thighs. “No! Goddamnit, kill me if you have to!” He spat. “Sammy, come on. I won’t judge you. I’d never judge you, I’ve got some naughty thoughts too.” Dean pleaded, shifting in the spot. Sam looked over at Dean, his eyes pleading. “I can’t. If you can’t… I can’t.” He added, swallowing hard. He grimaced when the needles hit him again.

  * Okay, we’ll go another route. How are you feeling, Dean?



“Pretty friggin’ crappy thanks to your damn needles!”

  * Well, perhaps if you stop lying, I’ll stop injecting you. That’s alright. Soon you won’t be able to lie.



Dean scowled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Dean asked, glancing worriedly at Sam, but Sam hadn’t seen the text. He was staring at his lap, his face drooping like a sad puppy. “Sammy. Hey. Talk to me.” He said, nudging Sam’s elbow with his own. “Leave me alone, Dean.” Sam mumbled, lifting his head to look at the screen. Dean could see that he was holding back tears. “If I tell the truth… Will you kill me and let Dean go?” He asked the empty room. “What? Sam, no.” Dean argued.

  * Yes, under one condition. If your brother agrees after hearing your secret. I said the truth would set you free, not kill you. I will not go back on my word, unless Dean specifically requests it.



“I won’t agree to it!” Dean snapped. “Sam. Sammy, nothing you can say will make me want you dead!” Dean pleaded, struggling against the chains. Sam sighed softly. “We’ll see.” Sam muttered, utterly defeated. He looked at the screen.

  * Who do you fantasize about, Sam? Who do you dream of when you wake up covered in your own mess?



Sam was silent a moment. He looked over at Dean, his eyes sad. “My… My brother, Dean. My first wet dream was about him, and I’ve been in love with him since then. I held off having sex for as long as I could, until Stanford… Just in case he decided he wanted me. I have to restrain myself from kissing him whenever he smiles because I am just so in love with his stupid face…” He took a shuddering breath. He could only hold Dean’s gaze a moment more before he dropped his eyes back to his lap. “Now do it, kill me.” He whispered.

  * Dean? Your verdict? Shall I end your brother? Or shall I continue the game? Sam has earned his freedom… But you haven’t.



Dean blinked at the screen, Sam’s confession shocking him. “Continue.” He whispered, knowing how to make this better.

  * Who do you fantasize about, Dean? Who is your dirty secret?



Dean took a breath. “My secret is—“ He swallowed hard; this was difficult, even knowing what he knew. “I want Sam. Have since we were teenagers. I fantasize about him holding me down and taking me until I can’t breathe. I dream about him talking in my ear all night, those girly things he loves to say that I tell him I hate… I don’t. I love them, and I just wish, once… He’d whisper them to me in bed, when I’m half asleep and screwed out of my mind.”

 

The screen went blank and the spotlight came back up. With a click, all four shackles released, dropping both men in a pile on the floor. Dean looked over at Sam, awaiting a punch, or worse. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw Sam was crying.

He reached for Sam, but a loud creak drew both their attention. On the far wall, a door opened into a barely lit hallway. Dean rose, shaky and bleeding. He offered his hand to Sam, but collapsed before he could really offer any assistance. Sam grabbed his coat, tugging him up slowly. They leaned on each other as they walked toward the door, looking around cautiously.

On the floor by the door were their shoes and socks, as well as their guns and the keys to the Impala. Sam scooped it all up, too eager to leave the place to bother putting anything on. They pushed through the only door at the end of the hallway, emerging from an abandoned warehouse.

Their car was parked a few feet away, and Sam hurried Dean to it, but when he pushed to get him in, Dean grabbed his shirt. “Sam.” He whispered. “I’m sorry, I never—I never wanted you to find out.”

“Why are you sorry? Don’t you remember? I confessed my undying love to you too, you idiot. Come on, this isn’t the time to talk about this. I wanna get as far away from here as possible.” Dean whined a little, not wanting to let Sam go, but he was too weak to argue. Sam pushed him into the car and went around, getting into the driver’s side. He pulled on his shoes, wincing a little, and started the car, driving as quickly as he felt was safe.

He looked over at Dean, his face a mask of concern. “Talk to me. Do we need a doctor?”

“No, I’m just… Really tired. I’m gonna sleep.” Dean mumbled. “Okay. Okay, De.” Sam whispered. He sped up a little, searching for a town where they could get a hotel… And Sam thought, this time, they’d get a room with a single bed.


End file.
